Angel
by Anneliza
Summary: Francis is enjoying a walk in the woods when he comes across a few feathers. What could have caused them to be in the woods and what happened to their owner?


The forest was bright and calm, making Francis very relaxed as he walked through it. He hummed to himself and followed his usual path. In front of him was a trail of sparse trees with lots of sunlight filtering through the leaves. However as he continued down it, he saw a small white feather on the ground. His footsteps halted before he turned and walked over to inspect the feather. Crouching, he picked it up and looked at it closely.

"Hmm…this looks like the feather of a dove." He was halfway to a standing position again before he noticed another feather. "I wonder if une petite colombe is close by…?" He peered around, trying to figure out where they had come from. A small trail of slightly bare ground and carefully trampled grass made a second path to the right of where he was. Curious, he followed the feathers through the forest, pushing trees and spider webs out of his way as he went. The feathers started to be in pairs or trios, gaining more with each clump; small spots of thick red liquid joined the feathers the farther he walked.

"Oh dear…I hope le pauvre oiseau is not too hurt. It would break mon cœur to find a seriously injured, or possibly even dead, dove…"

The trail ended and he saw an interesting site: a familiar mop of choppy blond hair and oversized eyebrows sitting in the middle of a small clearing, clutching his shoulder and keeping his head bent.

"Arthur…?"

The figure in the clearing raised his head quickly, shocked that anyone would find him where he was, and Francis noticed that his clothes were ripped and torn.

"F-Francis…?" he croaked, voice hoarse from what he could guess was crying; the red rimmed eyes confirmed his thought.

"Arthur…what happened to you?"

The English boy shook his head quickly, trying to discreetly wipe his eyes.

"N-Nothing, Francis…I am fine…"

Stepping lightly, Francis made his way over to him and knelt down.

"Arthur, if you are hurt then I want to help." He put his hand on his arm carefully. "Please. Let me."

The other stared at him for a few minutes, searching his clear blue eyes for any sign of a lie and finding none, before nodding slowly.

"Okay…"

Smiling a little, the Frenchman gently pulled the tattered shirt off, tossing it to the side, and inspected the boy's back. When he saw only a dark purple bruise decorating his left scapula, he was confused. Surely the other wouldn't cry over something so trivial. It took a lot to make the island nation cry and a simple bruise wouldn't do that, not anymore.

Then he got an idea.

"Arthur…there is only a bruise on your back. Is your true injury hidden from moi? Is it in your…'other' form?"

Gasping quietly, Arthur's head shot up to stare at him, eyes wide with surprise.

"Y-You…you know about that?"

He nodded.

"Oui. I've seen it once before but from a distance."

"Oh. Alright then."

Arthur closed his eyes and mumbled something to himself. A pair of pure white wings appeared on his back, standing out sharply against the dark clothes he was still wearing. Inspecting his wings with one hand, he marveled at how soft the feathers were. However as he worked his way away from the bruise, the English boy let out a whimper of pain. Leaning closer, he saw that it was bent and the bone was broken; the feathers ruffled.

"Your wing is broken. What did you do to manage that?"

"I-I…" He sniffled and wiped his eyes. "I hit a tree when I was flying. I barely made it to this clearing before collapsing."

Sighing softly, Francis stroked the feathers back into place which caused the other to relax a little.

"Honestly, Arthur..." he muttered to himself. "I think that flying any farther after an accident like that caused you more harm." A couple rolls of gauze and bandages were pulled from the Frenchman's bag. "I am going to try to fix it but you will need to stay still, d'accord? Can you do that?"

"Of course I can, frog!" He adjusted a little so he would be comfortable while the other worked. "I am not a child anymore after all."

Francis laughed and ruffled the younger's hair.

"I never said you were, lapin. Now be a good little ange and let me heal you."

'He needs a splint,' he thought. He looked around quickly and spotted some loose bark on a tree. 'That should work.'

Tearing off two strips, he came back and sat behind the hurt boy. Carefully, the pieces of bark were fastened to the broken wing with some gauze before being wrapped in bandages.

"Why are you doing this, frog? Surely seeing me in pain must be some sort of amusement for you or you never would have stopped."

The older shook his head, not too surprised by the other's words but they still hurt him a little.

"Mon cher, I can never stand to see you hurt. You may be stronger and independent now but I will always see you as l'enfant who would run to me with tears on his face after his frères hurt him. " He smiled. "And sometimes even angels need help to fly."

* * *

AN:

A fanfiction request for XxSassersxX. She gave me a paragraph of what she wanted and I just worked from there. I hope you like it!

If you want to request a fanfiction, just shoot me a message.


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